Longest Way Round
by zobawbaw
Summary: In telling the story of my father's life, it's impossible to separate fact from fiction, the man from the myth. The best I can do is to tell it the way he told me. It doesn't always make sense, and most of it never happened. But that's what kind of story this is. Or: On his deathbed, Erik Lensherr takes it upon himself to tell his greatest story. The story of his life. Big Fish AU


This story is based off the 2003 movie "Big Fish" directed by Tim Burton. I don't own that movie or any of the X-Men movies or characters. The title and all of the chapter titles come from James Joyce's "Ulysses". I don't own that either.

A guide to POVs:

Italicized and First Person- Erik (Speaking to audience)

Italicized and Third Person- Erik (Flashback)

Normal and First Person- Pietro (Speaking to audience)

Normal and Third Person- Pietro (Present)

Also, I call Piero "Pete" a bunch. Seriously. I don't know if I actually use his real name in this story once.

Enjoy!

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_There are some fish that cannot be caught. It's not that they're faster or stronger than other fish. They're just touched by something extra._

_One such fish was The Beast._

_And by the time I was born, he was already a legend. He'd passed up more $100 lures than any fish in Alabama. Some said that fish was the ghost of a thief who'd drowned in that river years before. Others claimed he was a dinosaur left over from the "Cretaceous" Period. I didn't put any stock into such speculation or superstition. All I knew was I'd been trying to catch that fish since I was a boy no bigger than you._

_And on the day you were born..._

_Well, that was the day I finally caught him._

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A man and a group of young boys sat on logs in the middle of a forest, a fire illuminating their faces. The boys were all outfitted in scout uniforms for their annual camping trip. The man leaned closer to the boys. "Now, I'd tried everything on it: worms, lures, peanut butter, peanut butter and cheese," he whispered to the enraptured troup. "But on that day I had a revelation: If that fish was Henry Walls' ghost, then the usual bait wasn't gonna work. I was gonna have to use something he truly desired." The man held up his left hand, his wedding ring glinting in the firelight.

"Your finger," asked one of the boys, his eyes wide.

"Gold."

At the end of log, one scout rolled his eyes and slumped over. Pete had heard this story one too many times.

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_Now, I tied my ring onto the strongest line they made, strong enough to hold up a bridge, they said, if only for a few minutes. And then I cast upriver._

_The Beast jumped up and grabbed it before it even hit the water. And just as fast, he snapped clean through that line._  
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"Well, you can see my predicament," the man said to the young woman perched on the couch. The lavender chiffon of her dress rustled as she moved closer to the storyteller, thoroughly interested. "My wedding ring, the symbol of fidelity to my husband, soon to be father of my child, was now lost in the gut of an uncatchable fish."

In the next room, Pete fidgeted as his father adjusted his tie. "Make him stop," Pete muttered, listening to his prom date gasp. His father smiled softly and let go of the bow tie.

"What did you do," asked the girl breathlessly.

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_I followed that fish upriver and downriver._

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"This fish, The Beast, the whole time we were calling it a him, when in fact it was a her. It was fat with eggs, it was gonna lay any day," said the man. The wedding guests sat back in their chairs, relaxing after a day of festivities. "Now, I was in a situation. I could gut that fish and get my wedding ring back, but in doing so I'd be killing the smartest catfish in the Westchester River. Did I want to deprive my son the chance to catch a fish like this of his own?"

Pietro kissed his new wife on the cheek and whispered in her ear before standing up and leaving the room. His father followed him. In the background, the man said, "This ladyfish and I, well, we had the same destiny. We were part of the same equation."

In the dark hallway, Pete's father patted my shoulder. "Oh, darling, darling, it's still your night," he assured his son. Pete brushed him off and exited the boathouse.

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"_Now, you may well ask why did it strike so quick on gold when nothing else would attract it? That was the lesson I learned that day, the day my son was born," said the man, raising his glass to his husband as he walked towards him, "Sometimes the only way to catch an uncatchable lover is to offer them a wedding ring." His husband laid a soft kiss on his lips as the guests applauded._

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"What, a father's not allowed to talk about his son?"

The man and Pietro faced off in the parking lot. Pete sighed, frustrated. "I'm a footnote in that story, Dad, the context for your great adventure━ which never happened, incidentally. You were selling novelty products in Wichita when I was born."

"Come on, Pete. Everyone loves that story!" The man threw out his arms, trying to defend himself.

"They don't. I don't love that story. Not anymore. Not after a thousand times! I know every punch line, Dad. I can tell them as well as you can! For one night, one night in your entire life, the universe did not revolve around Erik Lensherr," his son snapped, "How can you not understand that?"

He backtracked. "I'm sorry to embarrass you."

Still angry, Pete lashed out. "You're embarrassing yourself, Dad. You just don't see it."

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After that night, I didn't speak to my father again for three years.

We communicated indirectly. In his letters and Christmas cards, my other father wrote for both of them. And when I called, he'd say Dad was out driving or swimming in the pool. True to form, we never talked about not talking.

The truth is, I didn't see anything of myself in my father. And I did not think Erik saw anything of himself in me. We were like strangers who knew each other very well.

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In telling the story of my father's life, it's impossible to separate fact from fiction, the man from the myth. The best I can do is to tell it the way he told me. It doesn't always make sense, and most of it never happened.

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_A young man stood in the center of the Westchester River, a fishing line cast out in front of him._

_It was a special day for Erik Lensherr, he just didn't know it._

_A sharp tug on his line broke the young man out of his reverie. Looking down, his eyes went wide. Swimming beside his feet was the largest catfish to ever inhabit the river. The fish was massive, as long as a full grown man and twice as wide. Big with eggs, Erik realized. The Beast was a girl._

_The fish broke the line as it swallowed up his wedding ring and Erik sprang into action. Wrapping his arms around the catfish, he drug it from the water. The behemoth struggled, and man and fish wrestled for control. _

"_Give me back my ring," Erik shouted at the fish as it barked, trying to retreat back into the river. The fish hacked and the gold wedding band sailed into Erik's open palm. Erik, thoroughly dumbfounded, felt his arms go slack, and the giant catfish fell back into the water before swimming away._

"_Thank you," Erik called out to the fish. He quickly put the ring back on his finger, staring out at the river._

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But that's what kind of story this is.

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